This Does Not Have A Fairytale Ending
by marshtomp madness
Summary: Arthur is waylaid by a curse that puts him to sleep until true love's kiss wakes him.  Merlin finds himself in a bit of an awkward situation, being that true love and all.  There will be a sequel.


The latest witch-hunts point Arthur and his men to the middle of the woods, in a tiny cottage. It's fairly average, as far as cottages go. Small, kept clean and tidy by the old woman. Arthur feels a little bad going through her things.

"Be careful what you touch," Gaius had warned him before he left. "She is known for her enchanted objects. There may be consequences to rooting through her things without permission."

Arthur had nodded and agreed to be careful.

Here, though, there didn't really appear to be very much—just normal objects. A bed, some plates and cups, a broom, a spindle. All brown, not like the colorful and warm palace. Sometimes Arthur forgot that people really did live like this.

"Remember what Gaius said," Merlin said.

"I'm not an idiot," snapped Arthur.

God, Merlin sometimes. Such a little snot, and to his future king, too.

Except for the fact that Arthur liked that about him. Arthur liked to rib Merlin and tell him to do tons of chores, just to see the look on his face and hear the tone of sarcasm in his voice.

"Right, which is why you picked up her spindle," said Merlin. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the table, tapping his foot a little. Magic always makes Merlin a little nervous, Arthur thought, or at least more nervous than normal people get around it, and normal people get pretty nervous.

"It's just a spindle," said Arthur, testing the point against his finger. It was... sharper than he expected. "What could it—ow."

Merlin sighed and turned away, focusing instead on the food spread out on the table. A meager meal, bread and cheese.

"There doesn't appear to be anything here," said Merlin. "I think… she may be innocent."

Arthur was still staring at where the spindle had pricked his finger. It hurt… more than he remembered something like that hurting. A drop of blood appeared, and he licked it off, coppery taste reminding him of thousands of fights.

Arthur frowned, as Merlin's face sprang into his mind with no real reason.

_What a stupid face he's got_, he thought, feeling very strange suddenly. Dizzy. _I like it, though. I think I will not tell him that I pricked my finger. He'd just laugh_.

And then, everything went black.

* * *

><p>Merlin heard the thud, really, but thought one of Arthur's louts had dropped something, and so didn't notice Arthur was silent until about a minute later.<p>

"Arthur?"

His heart skipped in a painful way at the sight of Arthur, unmoving, crumpled on the floor. The spindle was rolling away. Merlin put two and two together, wrapped his scarf around the spindle, and put it in his bag.

"Oi!" he shouted, unable to keep the panic out of his voice, and the men looked around from where they were digging through an old lady's raggedy clothing. "Quickly! Help me carry him back to his horse!"

* * *

><p>"This is clearly a magical object," said Gaius, examining the spindle but keeping it carefully in its cloth. "Can you not feel the magic in it? It is simple magic, but old."<p>

Merlin looked at it.

"No," he said. "It just looks… normal."

Gaius shrugged.

"To be honest, it seems to be of the same sort of elemental, basic magic that is inherently a part of you," said Gaius. "Of course, this is the kind of magic that, by its nature, is deep and takes very powerful counterspells to reverse. You say he pricked his finger?"

"He did say 'ow,'" said Merlin.

Gaius nodded, a grave expression on his face.

"Yes," he said, "blood sacrifice is quite typical of the older magic. I'm afraid the prince will have a difficult time getting out of this one."

"What does it usually take?" asked Merlin.

Gaius shrugged.

"Sometimes merely another blood sacrifice. Sometimes true love's kiss. Other times, it is up to the enchanted to break it on their own, and there you will not be able to help him. Though of course, these are not the only possible counterspells. I will search to see if I can figure out what it is."

Merlin put his head in his hands.

"I am sorry," said Gaius.

"Not your fault that Arthur was too stupid to follow your advice."

Gaius smirked.

"It will, however, be my fault if I cannot get the prince out of this," said Merlin.

* * *

><p>It was Merlin's job to keep watch over the unconscious prince, because Uther did not trust any of the guards as much as he trusted Merlin—or rather, as much as he understood Arthur to trust Merlin, as Uther did not particularly trust the boy himself.<p>

So Merlin talked to Gwen and Morgana, when they came in to sit by Arthur's bedside. Uther did not visit.

Word was sent out that Arthur had fallen deathly ill, and was receiving no visitors until he got well again. Merlin heard much speculation as to what illness, but nothing close to the truth, for the truth was known only by those closest to the prince—namely, the king, Morgana, Gwen, Gaius, and Merlin.

Arthur did not wake.

"So," said Gwen. "It really is magic, then."

Merlin nodded. Morgana, having to take over the receiving of royal guests, had to be absent that day.

"Gaius is working on it," said Merlin. "There has to be a counterspell. But apparently it's really old magic."

"What does that mean?" asked Gwen.

"He said it's the kind of thing that usually needs like, blood sacrifice, or true love's kiss," said Merlin. "Really old, simple but powerful."

"Shall we find out if I am the prince's true love?" asked Gwen, laughing a little. "Like all the stories for little girls. My dad used to tell me them when I was little."

"Couldn't hurt," said Merlin.

She leaned over, brushed Arthur's hair off his face, and kissed him, then stood back. They waited a minute.

Nothing happened. Gwen sat back down, sighing.

"Guess not," she said, glancing away from Merlin.

Merlin shrugged. "Might not even be true love's kiss, anyway."

"No." Gwen sighed.

* * *

><p>"It is true love's kiss that ends the spell," said Gaius.<p>

"It can't be," said Merlin. "Gwen kissed him today."

Gaius held up the book. Merlin examined it. Indeed, it did say _True love's kiss ends the spell_.

"Then perhaps Gwen is not his true love," said Gaius.

"There is no one he loves more," said Merlin.

"Except, perhaps, Morgana," said Gaius. "But, in any case, we cannot have every girl in the kingdom parading through, trying to wake him up."

* * *

><p>"Send out an invitation to every girl in the kingdom," said Uther. "There will be a ball. We will find Arthur's true love to wake him up if it takes a parade of every girl in the kingdom."<p>

One of the guards mumbled to another, "Lucky guy."

Merlin sighed.

"If I may advise you," said Gaius, "that is impractical, my lord."

Uther scowled.

"Well, what else can we do?"

"We can try the Lady Morgana," said Merlin.

Morgana snorted. "You think that I am Prince Arthur's true love?"

"Well, honestly, no," said Merlin. "But it can't hurt to try."

Morgana pursed her lips, looking a little ill.

"No, I suppose it cannot."

* * *

><p>It was not Lady Morgana, and it was not Gwen, and they were out of options, so Merlin snuck out that night to see the Great Dragon.<p>

The chains clattered as it shook with peals of laughter.

"Yes, yes, it is very funny," said Merlin. "Arthur is a moron. Now tell me who his true love is."

"I cannot tell you that," said the Dragon. "It can be known—and you will know it—but it must be something that Arthur's true love decides for herself. Or himself, as the case may be."

The world spun for a moment as the magnitude of that qualifier sank in.

"You mean," Merlin said, in an embarrassing squeak, "that Arthur's true love—"

"Surely that is not news to you," said the Dragon.

"Uh, yeah, in fact, it is."

The Dragon shrugged.

"You are young, Merlin," it said. "But I believe you understand how important it is for you to find Arthur's true love."

"I do understand. Can't you—can you just give me something? Anything at all to go on? Is she somebody we know already? Is she in Camelot?"

The Dragon considered, scratching at a rock with one of its great scaled claws. Merlin waited, but then got impatient and started tapping his foot.

"Do not be hasty," said the Dragon. "He's not going to die. The spell keeps him alive. He may be like that for hundreds of years and not die."

"We haven't got hundreds of years," said Merlin. "I thought _I _had to help him. That would have to happen in my lifetime. Because that's how lifetimes work, you see, you only live one, and then you can't help the once and future king create Albion, so if there's anything you can tell me that would help I would _really appreciate it_."

"I may tell you this much," said the Dragon. "You will find the person who can lift the spell."

"And I won't have to wait hundreds of years?"

"You will not."

"Anything else you can tell me?" asked Merlin.

"No," said the Dragon.

"Oh," said Merlin. "Great."

"Good luck," said the Dragon.

Merlin left.

* * *

><p>Merlin continued to sit guard. Morgana and Gwen visited for shorter times each day. Merlin believed it may have been the fact that it grew harder and harder to see Arthur, by all appearances dead, and yet unchanging. It grew difficult even for Merlin, and he watched and waited for even the merest sign of life. There had been none yet, but Merlin still hoped.<p>

He wondered if Arthur was dreaming, and what dreams he would have.

By the thirtieth day, he found himself telling Arthur of the news of the court. He didn't know if Arthur could hear, but he tried anyway. Besides, it was terribly boring,

"—and Lady Marianne is coming tomorrow, so really I think you'd be happy to know that you're missing her, she keeps asking about you and we keep saying the prince isn't taking any visitors but she keeps insisting that she's got to see you, and I think it would be hilarious if she was your true love. Actually it wouldn't be hilarious because we're not under any circumstances letting her in, so in that case you'd never wake up."

Merlin sighed.

"Urgh, spider," he said, and in his haste to brush it off the pillow, brushed against Arthur's face.

_Cold_, he thought, although it didn't stop him from looking at Arthur's face for the first time—really looking, because of course he'd seen Arthur's face before. Even in sleep like this. Merlin was there for the beginnings and ends of Arthur's days, and a whole lot of the in-between.

But he'd never really looked at him. He understood that Arthur was handsome, sort of, because a lot of people said so and a lot of the village girls giggled whenever they walked by. Usually, when Arthur was asleep, he had a sort of petulant frown on his face that made him look like a five year old who had been promised sweets and then denied them. But this sleep—enchanted sleep—Arthur's lips were curved up in something that, if you looked at it in the right way, was probably a smile.

Again, Merlin wondered, _what _are_ you dreaming of?_

"Princesses," he said out loud, answering his own question. "Probably lots of lovely girls. The one who's your true love shouldn't be hard to find. There are only so many people in the world who could stand you. I hope she's—I hope she's kind and can tell that you're an ass," he added.

He glanced down at Arthur, and, feeling a little foolish, tugged the blankets up over his shoulders more.

"Don't worry, Arthur," he said. "We'll find her."

* * *

><p>"Ah," said Gaius, pointing at a paragraph in one of his books. Merlin read it.<p>

_The sleeper of this particular enchantment dreams of the one whose kiss will wake him or her up._

_So I was right to wonder_, Merlin thought.

"No wonder he smiles," said Merlin. "Do we know any dream-reading spells?"

"We do," said Gaius. "But—Merlin, do not get your hopes up for a quick solving. We may not know who the woman is. It may take us months—even years to find her."

Merlin nodded. "I'll do the spell," he said. "Just show it to me."

"I will accompany you," said Gaius. "I have an excellent memory for faces."

Merlin smiled. "I was going to ask you to, anyway."

* * *

><p>The spell took five minutes of chanting, and a mirror to show the dreams of the sleeper. Not a problem. Merlin was used to this kind of thing.<p>

It was so easy.

Power filled his hands, his eyes glowed gold, and the mirror floated above Arthur's head. It clouded as though someone was breathing across it, and then cleared.

Arthur dreamt of a long journey, taken by just him and Merlin, through the lands of the kingdom. They stopped at lakes and rivers, picnicked and hunted, and Arthur was not prince, nor Merlin his servant.

They were just together, and happy.

* * *

><p>Merlin's shock caused him to drop the mirror, but he caught it quickly before it fell onto Arthur's face.<p>

Gaius was staring at him in mute shock. Merlin was reeling, too, but he'd had a long lifetime of training himself to recognize horror in other people's expressions, and he didn't see any in Gaius's.

"Did you—suspect this?" Gaius asked.

"The Dragon did say that his true love might have been male," said Merlin.

Because it made sense, now. It made perfect sense. Merlin couldn't look at Arthur. He knew—he knew he loved him—he had been so anxious to get Arthur awake again—he had been willing to die for him—and if he thought about it, Arthur… Well, maybe Will had been a better friend, and Gwen was a kinder soul, but Arthur was noble and had a heart of gold, and even if he was a jerk, Merlin loved him.

He did. It just wasn't _in that way_.

Was it?

Gaius was silent for a moment.

Merlin waited.

"I don't," said Merlin. "Er. That is. I don't… understand. I don't love Arthur that way. I don't."

Gaius covered his mouth with his hands, and gave Merlin a searching look.

"Well," he said, shrugging, "end the spell."

Merlin nodded, and bent over Arthur. He'd had one kiss that he'd been awake for (a little village girl when he was young, at a festival), one that he was half-dead for, so this would make… three. He didn't really even know how to kiss, so he just sort of… touched his lips to Arthur's, and kissed them the way he had kissed Eleanor's forehead the night her dad died when they were both eleven years old, and he hadn't known what to do to comfort her except put his arms around her. Just a peck, really.

Merlin glanced up at Gaius, who gave him a small smile. You wouldn't even have guessed that Gaius had just found out something terribly shocking. Or maybe it wasn't terribly shocking. But either way, it was kind of nice, Merlin decided, to have someone like Gaius in his life.

Then Merlin straightened and stood back as quickly as possible.

Arthur's mouth formed a word first, something unintelligible, and then his eyes opened, slowly.

"Water," he croaked. "Food."

"Of course," said Merlin, hurrying to hand him the tray that had been placed in the room like every morning, and Arthur ate and drank greedily, slurping at the water and accidentally spilling it over the sides of the cup.

"Why do I feel so awful?" he asked.

"You were under an enchantment," said Gaius. "A sleeping spell. It has just been broken. We had to find an alternate cure from the usual one."

"I had the most bizarre dream," said Arthur. "Merlin, you and I were travelling together. You weren't my servant, because I wasn't a prince. We were just friends."

"I'm going to get your father," said Gaius. "He will be pleased to know you've woken."

"Is that so strange, sire?" asked Merlin, when Gaius had shut the door.

Arthur frowned.

"No, maybe not. More food, please."

"Of course, sire," said Merlin, and practically ran out of the room, wondering how it was that being out of Arthur's presence could be such a relief after a month of worrying that he would never be in it again.

* * *

><p>Arthur cornered Merlin after the feast in honor of his awakening.<p>

"So," he said casually, "what was the cure you used?"

"A tincture of wormwood," said Merlin automatically, his response to whenever he had to use magic for something health-related and he had to explain how he'd cured the ill person in question.

"Because," said Arthur, the nonchalance in his expression giving way to—anger? Hysteria? Something not good, that was for sure. "Gwen said you would have had to find my true love."

"Gwen's not always right," said Merlin coolly, wondering if he could pull this off properly. "There was another cure. The, er, tincture."

"Oh," said Arthur. "Well, that's good, because the only people I recall in the room when I woke up were you and Gaius, and it would be very shocking if the prince's true love were his servant or the court physician eighty years his senior."

"Good thing it's not, then," said Merlin, feeling rather stung. "Sire."

When Arthur actually looked a little hurt, Merlin felt sort of bad, but not really. Arthur made to leave, but before he did, he turned back to Merlin and opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, shut it, and then opened it again.

"For what it's worth," said Arthur. "I'm glad it was you. In the room. And in my dream."

He bit his lip, looking Merlin in the eye. Merlin wondered if that was really what Arthur meant, or—oh God, this was Arthur, what was he thinking? Arthur didn't do unspoken communications. He said stupid stuff and meant it, didn't feel deeply about anything besides his honor and his people as a whole. And maybe Merlin, sort of, but in a this-is-mine-and-I-need-to-keep-it-in-top-condition.

Merlin suddenly realized the hurt he felt at this thought meant he was in love.

"Sire," he said, meaning it respectfully this time, "I am honored."

Arthur nodded jerkily, and left.

* * *

><p>AN: I plan to have a sequel, which is going to be <em>actual<em> slash.


End file.
